


This Is Where The Angels Come

by RockyPond



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Also I use the spelling Seán used once, Chapters will get longer as I go along, Fallen Angels, M/M, Seán is a fallen angel, no beta we die like men, not the traditional way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 15:46:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15222467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockyPond/pseuds/RockyPond
Summary: To Damn Their Wings and Cuss.Seán was one of God’s best angels, until one day he Fell from Grace. Unsure as to why, he seeks out his charge as a Guardian Angel, to figure out the reason for his Falling.Along the way he meets a man named Mark, who helps him explore what it truly means to be human.





	This Is Where The Angels Come

**Author's Note:**

> This story is completely fiction, Mark Fischbach and Seán McLoughlin (and any other youtubers I use) are their own people and this has nothing to do with them.  
> I am simply using their names and other traits for the story.
> 
> The title of this story comes from the poem ‘No Motorbikes, No Golf’ by Courtney Sina Meredith.

Seán pushed against the wet concrete, his face lifting from the puddle it had rested in. His arms slipped for a second, sending shock waves through his entire body.  
Everything hurt.  
He tried to recall what had happened as he pushed himself up into a shaking but standing position.  
He went to stretch his wings but doing so sent a burning pain down his shoulder blades.  
Moving slowly, he went to look over his shoulder, fearing what he would see. When he did he saw no trace of his wings. Choking back a sob he looked down to where he had laid. Staring at the burnt remains of his wings, staining the concrete in the shape of their skeleton, he began to wail.  
He fell to his knees, tracing his hands against the ash. Pulling his hand away he noticed how the remains of his wings stuck to his hands and he cried even harder.  
Praying to all of Heaven he sat there and sobbed.  
He heard the familiar whoosh of an angel and looked up. It was Marzia, looking down at him in pity. He looked up at her from his hands and knees, tears streaming down his face.  
“Help me.” He begged his friend.  
“I wish I could Seán, but you know what God says. We can not help the fallen.”  
Seán gaped at her, “Fa-fallen? I can’t be fallen, I didn’t, I didn-“  
“I’m so sorry Seán.” Marzia sent one last look at her friend, stepping around his burnt wings and resting her hands on his shoulder. She then disappeared into the night.  
The rain began to fall as Heaven cried for her lost son, who could do nothing but cry in return. 

Seán picked himself up, noticing where he was. Los Angeles street lights twinkled around him, as he walked out onto the streets of the Walk of Fame. In the part of his mind that wasn’t screaming at becoming Fallen, he mused on how ironic it was that he had lost his angel status in the City of Angels.  
He was unsure what to do, except find the only human who knew him, since no angels could offer their support.  
As he headed to Signe’s house he let his thoughts wander. How had he, one of God’s brightest, one of His’ holiest, become tainted, become one with Lucifer?  
He found himself on Signe’s doorstep. Knocking once, he waited.  
She opened the door, looking older than when Seán had last seen her. Yet, something about her eyes told him she was the same girl he had saved from drowning. The same teenager he had stopped from jumping in front of a train. The same young woman he had prevented going to work due to car troubles on the same day a vengeful ex-employee had opened fire with a shotgun.  
Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of him.  
“Jack?”


End file.
